The yacht fleet did not appear up the bay; but it was only nine o'clock in the morning, and possibly the meeting of the club would not take place till afternoon. If any one had told him the hour, he had forgotten it, but the former meeting had been in the forenoon. He was too nervous to sit still a great while, and, rising, he walked about, musing upon his grand scheme. The place was an elevated platform of rock, a portion of it covered with soil to the depth of several feet, on which the grass grew. It was not far above the water even at high tide, nor were the bluffs very bold. The plateau was on a peninsula, extending to the north from the island, which was not unlike the head of a turtle, and the shape had given it a name. Donald walked back and forth on the headland, watching for the fleet.
"I wonder if Laud Cavendish was digging for clams up here," thought he, as he observed a spot where the earth appeared to have been disturbed.
The marks of Laud's clam-digger were plainly to be seen in the loam, a small quantity of which remained on the sod. Certainly the swell had been digging there; but it could not have been for clams; and Donald was trying to imagine what it was for, when he heard footsteps near him. Coming towards him, he discovered Captain Shivernock, of the city; and he had two problems to solve instead of one; not very important ones, it is true, but just such as are suggested to everybody at times. Perhaps it did not make the least difference to the young man whether or not he ascertained why Laud Cavendish had been digging on the Head, or why Captain Shivernock happened to be on the island, apparently without any boat, at that time in the morning. I do not think Donald would have given a nickel five-cent piece to have been informed correctly upon either point, though he did propose the question to himself in each case. Probably Laud had no particular object in view in digging—the ground did not look as though he had; and Captain Shivernock was odd enough to do anything, or to be anywhere, at the most unseasonable hours.
"How are you, Don John?" shouted the captain, as he came within hailing distance of Donald.
"How do you do, Captain Shivernock," replied the young man, rather coldly, for he had no regard, and certainly no admiration, for the man.
"You are just the man I wanted to see," added the captain.
Donald could not reciprocate the sentiment, and, not being a hypocrite, he made no reply. The captain seemed to be somewhat fatigued and out of breath, and immediately seated himself on the flat rock which the young man had occupied. He was not more than five feet and a half high, but was tolerably stout. The top of his head was as bald as a winter squash; but extending around the back of his head from ear to ear was a heavy fringe of red hair. His whiskers were of the same color; but, as age began to bleach them out under the chin, he shaved this portion of his figure-head, while his side whiskers and mustache were very long. He was dressed in a complete suit of gray, and wore a coarse braided straw hat.
Captain Shivernock, as I have more than once hinted, was an eccentric man. He had been a shipmaster in the earlier years of his life, and had made a fortune by some lucky speculations during the War of the Rebellion, in which he took counsel of his interest rather than his patriotism. He had a strong will, a violent temper, and an implacable hatred to any man who had done him an injury, either actually or constructively. It was said that he was as faithful and devoted in his friendships as he was bitter and relentless in his hatreds; but no one in the city, where he was a very unpopular man, had any particular experience of the soft side of his character. He was a native of Lincolnville, near Belfast, though he had left his home in his youth. He had a fine house in the city, and lived in good style. He was said to be a widower, and had no children. The husband of his housekeeper was the man of all work about his place, and both of them had come with their employer from New York.
He seldom did anything like other people. He never went to church, would never put his name upon a subscription paper, however worthy the object, though he had been known to give a poor man an extravagant reward for a slight service. He would not pay his taxes till the fangs of the law worried the money out of him, but would give fifty dollars for the first salmon or the first dish of peaches of the season for his table. He was as full of contradictions as he was of oddities, and no one knew how to take him. One moment he seemed to be hoarding his money like a miser, and the next scattering it with insane prodigality.
"I'm tired out, Don John," added Captain Shivernock, as he seated himself, fanning his red face with his hat.